The Potions Master
by littlelynn22
Summary: Severus Snape has survived the war and returned to his dungeon classroom, only to find himself bewitched by the brightest witch of her age. SS/HG
1. Chapter 1

Hermione's eyes rose up from her parchment to find Snape sneering at her, again.

"Really?" she thought, "after all we've been through?"

It hurt to see he carried so much disdain for her. After she learned of his role in the war, she had thought his abusive ways, and his particular hate for her, were all an act. And even if they hadn't been, couldn't he appreciate what she had done, what they had all done? He had made tremendous sacrifices. But so, she thought, had she and Ron and Harry, and countless others. Trauma was no excuse to be an ass, and she hadn't the slightest clue what his problem with her was.

She flushed crimson with indignation, trying in vain to pour herself back into her work, failing miserably. She stewed in her anger until she heard his drawling, "class dismissed."

She waited until the last of the other students had left before she lifted her eyes from her parchment.

He had moved from the corner of the room to hover over the front of her desk, resting his hands on the corner of it and leaning over her threateningly.

"Miss Granger," he seemed to slither, "I don't know what's rolling around in that bushy-haired head of yours, but don't think I haven't noticed the marked decline in your performance lately. You don't expect to get an "O" just for being a war hero, do you?"

She slowly turned her head up towards him, eyes locking with his. She seethed with rage. She mustn't punch him, no matter how badly he deserved it.

"Well?" he challenged, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

She snapped, looking up at him defiantly, "I'd say it would be easier to _focus_ if my professor were more interested in teaching me than staring at me."

She got up and stormed out of his classroom, saving him the obligation of finding a way to respond to that.

"Oh, fuck" he thought, "she noticed," as he rubbed his hands on his forehead.

It seemed rather cruel, having female students wear those short skirts under their robes. It really wasn't fair. She was a brilliant witch, truly, but he still found himself lingering too long on the hem of her skirt, her slender but womanly build, her shapely legs…and to say he felt guilty would be an understatement. His combination of lust and self-hatred was probably written all over his face everytime he looked at the young witch. He tried to cover his emotions with more appropriate – and less humiliating – emotional fronts.

He sighed, and took 50 points from Gryffindor. This situation was his fault, but he couldn't set the dangerous precedent of letting students tell him off with no punishment. But, perhaps…perhaps he could make better use of this opportunity. To deal with his feelings for the prodigious, hot-headed witch, and to get her back at the top of her class.

He returned the house points, and penned a curt letter to Miss Granger:

 _As you know, your outburst cannot be tolerated. You will serve detention with me for four hours each week until I deem your attitude rectified._

 _-Severus Snape_

He smiled to himself, imagining how angry the little witch would be when she first received news of her punishment. Despite his guilt, he still had a sense of humor. He rolled up the letter and sent it off.


	2. Chapter 2

20 minutes after Severus had sent his letter, the disheveled-looking, chestnut-haired schoolgirl stormed into his office.

Hermione was done with his shit.

"Indefinite detention! For four hours a week?"

"Ah, Miss Granger, I see you have not lost the ability to read." He smiled sarcastically.

"You come to lecture me about my grades, goad me to "justifying" my performance, and then give me four less hours a week to study?"

"I do not tolerate back-talk Miss Granger. You will now serve six hours with me, in two hour chunks, each week, for as long as I deem it necessary….any more complaints from you and I will add on another two hours."

"Fine." She spat, angry but defeated. If the bastard wanted to make her last year miserable and tank her GPA, she supposed he could.

Hermione arrived to her 7pm detention with Severus Snape. She peeked through the doorwindow of Snape's office, and saw him smiling, looking quite too pleased with himself. Pompous ass. Still though, the smile suited him. She shook off the strange thought and knocked on the door. She presumed her presence would break his good mood.

"Come in," he said languidly, and as she took the seat across his desk, he added, "have you seen the time? There is little more precious than time, Miss Granger. In the future, you will enter at exactly 7pm, when you are expected, without disturbing me"

She looked on, at the clock, confused—it said 7:02. She would normally be angry about this odd reproach for totally acceptable behavior, but shockingly, he didn't seem annoyed with her. She couldn't quite read his mood.

"Does my request for punctuality puzzle you, Miss Granger?"

"No, professor."

"Good. In the interest of making the most of the time I have to spend supervising you, you will serve as my assistant. Can you handle that, Miss Granger?" he looked at her questioningly, and surprisingly sincerely.

She startled. She thought she would be copying lines or cleaning sludge out of cauldrons or suffering under Snape's intense glare for hours on end. She reasoned that the latter two options could still be true. "I suppose I will have to, won't I?" she says, pleasantly surprised. She didn't expect…what sounded like an opportunity?

"I suppose you will." He looked over her choice of apparel for the detention – she had chosen pajama pants and an oversized sweatshirt. It was entirely impractical for brewing and handling potions ingredients.

"You will find sets of dragonhide robes in the back cabinet of the lab. Find one that will fit snugly without encumbering your movement. The robes have been charmed to tailor to your body if the hide is to your…skin. Change and return when you have finished."

She understood the utility of the robes – some ingredients were dangerous, and dragonhide was the best protection—but she flushed pink,

"Professor…where should I change?"

He sighed, "You are a smart witch and I am not a patient man. Figure it out."

And with that, he waved her out.

She walked briskly to the dungeon lab, feeling the cold air hit her face as she opened its heavy double-doors. She moved to the back cabinet, and searched for something that looked like it would fit. She found a long, black-leather dress with a high collar and ¾ length sleeves. The leather was beautiful, but tough and inflexible. She wasn't sure how she would ever be able to move in it. Still, they all felt like that, and this was the right size.

She looked around the room for a private place to change. There wasn't one, and she knew the hall was no different. She locked the lab's doors, moved so she would be somewhat concealed by the cabinet if anyone…somehow…walked in, and began removing her clothing. Her cheeks flushed pink as the cold air hit her now exposed skin. It felt wrong to be undressing in a classroom. Stranger still that it was on a professor's orders. She chided herself. This wasn't sexual, it was practical.

She pulled the hide dress on over her undergarments, and felt what Snape had described – the hide softened and molded to her skin, everywhere it touched. Which left just awkward, misshapen stiffness over her bra and panties. She tried to move. The leather chaffed strangely against her bum and restricted her movement. This must be what Snape meant when he emphasized she should be…unencumbered. She took the dress back off so she could remove her undergarments. She felt exposed even though she was alone, but brushed off the feeling and reapplied the dress. It formed around her perfectly, and she found it had become very soft. She knew it was still tough though, and to her surprise, she felt comforted, knowing that despite his all his snide words and apparent dislike of her, her professor would ensure she was well protected, no matter how dangerous the ingredients they would work with might be.

She folded her clothes and left them in the cabinet, then sped back to Snape's office.

 _Merlin._ He knew the robes would cover her legs, he thought he would be safe. But now, for the first time, he could see every curve of her body. She was 18 now—a woman, but still very young. Her breasts were full and pert, and her narrow waist emphasized her hips beautifully. Hermione was hot as hell, which, incidentally, is where he would soon be going.

They walked together to the lab, and he began deftly unbuttoning his robes. Hermione looked up at him with shocked eyes.

"There is dragonhide underneath, Miss Granger. Did you fancy I would be giving you a striptease?" he spoke slowly, still undressing and now watching Hermione intently while he did it.

Her eyes widened at the vulgar suggestion, and his lip quirked up with the lightest hint of a smile.

Her eyes widened at the suggestion, yes, but also at…him. She wasn't quite sure how old he was, probably late thirties or early forties. The dragonhide revealed that he was still in excellent form. Severus did not miss her incidental blush as she appraised him.

The detentions were supposed to help him resolve his feelings for the witch. Guiltily, he suspected this would be a lot more fun.


End file.
